Early Mornings
by lha again
Summary: A little insight into the first morning in their cottage for Mr and Mrs Carson. Mostly fluff.


**Early Mornings**

 **Disclaimer:** These charaters do not beling to me.

 **Summary** : A little insight into the first morning in their cottage for Mr and Mrs Carson

Charles Carson woke contented. He didn't move, didn't even open his eyes, for he knew there was nothing more perfect than this. To wake with his wife tucked securely in his embrace, his arm around her waist, her curves tucked neatly into him. Only she was moving. Not the gentle movements of sleep or the jerks that might indicate a nightmare of some sort but the purposeful gestures of someone trying to escape his arms and remove themselves from the bed.

"Elsie?" He mumbled, unwilling to pull himself further from sleep when his internal clock was telling him it was not nearly time to rise.

"Shhh and back to sleep with you," she chided gently, no longer aiming for subterfuge as she simply lifted his arm enough to allow her to easily slip out from beneath it.

"Why?"

"Because it's time for me to get up but you needn't rouse yourself yet," she replied softly, leaning back across the bed to caress his hair and place a chaste kiss on his forehead. He frowned, peeling open his eyes now.

"What time is it?" The room was still dark but that could have been due to the weight of the curtains.

"A little before four thirty," she said from the doorway.

"Surely that's too early for anyone to be getting up?" He grumbled.

"There speaks a man who has never been a scullery maid," she said blithely.

"But you my dear are not the scullery maid," he said, still not sure why she was getting up at this ungodly hour.

"No, but it is my job to make sure that the fires are set, that everything is under control in the kitchens, that the new daily house maids arrive on time and know what the priorities of the day are and that the ladies maids are present and correct."

"Surely none of that needs done at four thirty?" He knew his dislike of the hour was plain in his voice.

"Well, I do need to bathe, dress and do my hair first... unless you'd rather I went up to the house like this?"

"Don't tease an old married man," he grumbled.

"You weren't feeling so sorry for yourself last night," she said, looking back over her shoulder at him before leaving the room.

Charles lay there for a moment considering and then sat up, straightening the sheets across his lap. Turning on his bedside lamp he picked up his book readying himself to wait. When Elsie came back from the bathroom a few minutes later, she seemed surprised to find him still awake. He watched as she sat down at the small vanity and unfastened her hair.

"I really am sorry to have woken you," she said looking seriously at his reflection in the mirror.

"Not at all, I shall enjoy watching your routine as recompense."

"It'll be a guy long day for you though," she said with a frown.

"A few hours lost sleep won't be the end of me."

"It might be if it's a few hours every day. Housekeepers start early and butlers work late, that's just the way of it."

"You mean you get up this early every day?"

"Give or take."

"Oh," he closed his book. "What about… when you sit up with me? In the evenings."

"It's well worth the price." The smile that spread across her face had warmth blossoming in his chest and he returned the gesture.

"Well then, I'm sure I'll cope. I hope I never sleep so heavily not to wake when you rise but I'll try and go back to sleep once you're away."

"And if you don't manage, I could always move to the guest bedroom."

"That will not be necessary," he said with more force than he intended, "I mean, that is to say, if we can't find a way to share a bed and get enough rest, then I'll just have to leave Barrow to the late night duties." He fought his own bluster as she turned to him, eyes wide and sparkling.

"You know Mr Carson," she said, standing and coming around to his side of the bed, "I think I may just love you."

"Well that's a good thing now isn't it, Mrs Carson?" he said, reaching up to take her hand and pressing his lips to the back of her hand. Housemaids hands she'd protested, when he'd told her much he loved them, but he did love them, loved all of her, loved the feel of her close to him as she slept. No, nothing would persuade him that they should sleep alone now, they had done so for so very long already that he would not give it up now, early mornings be damned.

A/N: Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you think!


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